


Cycle

by thepensword



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra, Avatar: The Last Airbender, Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Avatar & Benders Setting, Avatar Yuuri, Bending training, Gen, M/M, Yes its an au even with zuko and katara in it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-27
Updated: 2017-09-11
Packaged: 2018-12-20 13:49:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11922201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepensword/pseuds/thepensword
Summary: Yuuri is sixteen years old when his life gets turned upside down.“It’s an honor to meet you,” smiles Katara. “Avatar Yuuri.”





	1. Water, Earth, Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this AU:  
> Korra was not born the Avatar. She still exists, but as a water bender. She probably still went to Republic City and probably still joined the Fire Ferrets. Asami probably still ran over Mako with her motorbike. All of that happened, but Korra isn't the Avatar and she isn't in this story.  
> Harmonic Convergence, for the sake of this story, happened during Aang's time. That doesn't mean much except that there's more spirits around and also more airbenders. (That part’s important. Remember that.)
> 
>  
> 
> Anyhoo.  
> Enjoy!

Yuuri is sixteen years old when his life gets turned upside down.

He's on the lake, and it's a frosty midwinter day. His feet trace lazy circles across the ice and his breath makes clouds in the air around him.

He can feel the ice beneath him, even separated as he is by the thin strip of metal on the bottom of his skates. Below the ice, the water churns, cold and dark, and he can feel that too.

Yuuri Katsuki is a waterbender, and an excellent one too. Just don't ask him to give a demonstration or he'll forget what water even is.

None of that is remarkable however.

What's remarkable is when Minako sprints towards him, shouting his name, and slides across the ice to grab his arm with such sudden weight that he almost falls over.

Almost, but not quite. The ice is a part of him.

“Minako?” he gasps, reaching out hands reflexively to grab her shoulders and steady them both. “What are you-”

“Yuuri!” pants Minako, her cheeks flushed from the cold and her eyes wide. “Come back to the house!”

Yuuri blinks at her, alarmed. “What is it?”

“Just come!” Minako’s grip tightens and Yuuri finds himself being dragged off the ice. He bends to untie his skates, but Minako grabs his feet one at a time and aggressively shoves his guards on. “No time for that!” she explains breathlessly. “Let's go!”

Then Yuuri is stumbling towards the inn, tripping over the skates that lend to such elegance on the ice and such clumsiness on land. He almost falls several times but Minako pulls him back onto his feet.

At first glance, the inn looks the same as it always does. Lanterns glow by the doorway, and a cheerful plume of smoke rises from the chimney to greet the snow-laden clouds above. Confused, Yuuri opens his mouth, before the sight of a sleek, modern-looking automobile parked on the road catches his eye.

Hasetsu is a small town on the northern tip of the Earth Kingdom. The area draws heavily from Water Tribe culture and many of its inhabitants are in fact of Water Tribe descent. It's in many ways a place between worlds, and while it welcomes many a traveler to its streets, it's location so far removed from any large cities means that it doesn't see much in the way of recent technological advancements.

In other words, Hasetsu doesn't get very many automobiles. When it does, they're usually battered trucks full of farming or fishing supplies. 

Yuuri barely has time to register the lotus flower painted over the metallic blue that covers most of the automobile before Minako pushes him through the front door and into the happily lit main room of the inn.

Inside it is quiet.

That in itself is strange. Yu-topia is always noisy, bustling with patrons and friends and the constant chatter of the radio. Now however, it is silent, and none of its usual patrons are to be seen.

His parents are sitting cross-legged at the largest table, facing the door. Their eyes find him immediately, but Yuuri can’t seem to read their expressions. Opposite them sit two strangers in blue robes, both larger-than-life and both with their backs to him. As Minako enters and the door swings shut, the strangers turn to look at him.

Dimly, Yuuri recognizes the garb of the White Lotus. But that doesn’t make any sense. Why would the White Lotus be here, in Hasetsu? Why would they be sitting on the floor of his family’s inn?

“Ah, you must be Yuuri,” says one of them, an old woman with a long gray braid and a lively glint in her eye. “Please, come sit.”

“I—wha…” Yuuri swallows, hard. “Um. Hello.” He bows, and the woman smiles. “Uh. One moment. Please.” 

He can feel their eyes on him as he bends to unlace his skates with shaking fingers and only manages to turn the bow into a knot. Minako kneels to help him, her long, nimble hands swiftly undoing the tangle and pulling the skates off his feet.

“I’ll be in the kitchen,” she whispers, and leaves the room. Yuuri feels naked without her behind him, standing barefoot and alone in front of the White Lotus’ searching gazes.

His mother reaches out a hand and pats the floor beside her. Taking the hint, Yuuri moves across the room and sits, his heart beating loudly in his ears. He doesn’t know if either of the strangers are earthbenders, but he’s sure they can both hear his heart whether they are or not. 

The middle-aged man with steely gray eyes who sits beside the old woman reaches into his robes and pulls out a box. He sets it delicately on the table and opens it to reveal a blue velvet lining, and, resting atop that, two koi fish carved from stone. One is black with a white eye, and one is white with a black eye. 

“Choose,” says the man. Yuuri’s brow furrows, confused. He doesn’t understand what this is about, why they’re here, what’s going on, but he has enough sense to realize he’s being tested. Sweat forms on his palms where they’re clenched into fists on his knees, and he forces his hands to relax.

He’s trembling. The room is silent, all eyes on him, and the fish seem to swirl together into a blur before him.

_ Choose _ .

Black, or white? What’s the right answer?  _ Is  _ there a right answer?

Tentatively, Yuuri reaches for the white one, then draws back and moves his fingers towards the black one. He picks it up and frowns. No, this is wrong. He sets it back down.

Something’s wrong. What’s wrong? Why can’t he choose?

_ Push and pull. Life and death. Good and evil. Ying and yang. _

“I...I can’t,” stammers Yuuri, his voice cracking. He withdraws his hands and clutches at the fabric of his pants, trying to ground himself in reality. 

The woman narrows intense blue eyes at him and leans forward. “Can’t you?”

“I can’t. I can’t pick. They don’t—I can’t pick one.”

The man’s spine straightens just slightly. A smile tickles the corner of the woman’s mouth. “And why not?”

Yuuri wets his lips. His mother reaches out a reassuring hand to brush his arm. “Because they—they go together. I can’t take one. They’re two halves of a whole. To take one and not the other would be…” he trails off, not really sure what exactly taking one would be.

The man and woman exchange looks. Then the latter smiles and reaches a hand across the table towards him even as the man closes the box and hides it back in his robes. Tentatively, Yuuri extends his own hand, and the woman takes it.

“Do you know who we are?” asks the woman. Her eyes are sparkling like the ice when the sun is high.

“You’re the White Lotus,” Yuuri murmurs.

“Yes,” she smiles, both hands now cupping his. Her grip is startlingly firm for an old woman’s, firm and warm and surprisingly comforting. “This is Daiko. And my name is Katara.”

Yuuri’s mouth is suddenly very, very dry. “K-Katara? As in…”

She inclines her head. “Yes. Do you know why we’re here?”

_ Yes. It’s obvious. They’re here because— _

_ —no! That doesn’t make any sense. I’m just a nobody. _

_ Stop lying to yourself. You know what this is about. _

“N-no.”

“Well, Yuuri,” says Katara. “As you may know, the world has yet to reveal its new Avatar.”

Distantly, Yuuri hears someone gasp from inside the kitchen, and another voice quickly shushing. “Y-yes?”

“Until today.”

Yuuri knows. He knows. He’s not an idiot. He figured this out before she said it, but he’s still in denial. It just doesn’t make sense. How could he—? 

“It’s an honor to meet you,” smiles Katara. “Avatar Yuuri.”

* * *

 

Yuuri’s pretty much mastered waterbending at sixteen. Katara offers to teach him, anyway. Says they should fill in the gaps, since he’s the Avatar and all.

The Avatar. Yuuri is the Avatar.

It all feels so surreal.

Yuuri is sixteen when he packs his bags and leaves home. The last night before he goes, his mother cooks katsudon and Mari stares at him all through dinner without saying a word.

The next morning is cold and bright, the sky perfectly blue and the sun reflecting off the snow that’s piled on the side of the road. His parents hug him and kiss him and make him promise to phone once in a while. His mother writes the number down on a piece of paper just in case he forgets.

Minako and Yuuko and Takeshi are all there to see him off. He can see the faces of all of the neighbors peering through the windows and halfway-opened doors. Yuuri bids them all goodbye with a swelling feeling of anxiety in his chest, and finds himself swallowing back tears.

He’s about to get in the car when Mari finally says something. Her hand on his shoulder stops him with one foot in the door, and her eyes are intense even set in the careful aloofness of her expression.

“I always knew you were special, Yuuri,” she says. “Be careful out there.” Then she hugs him, and that is the point where Yuuri loses the battle to hold back his tears.

Katara is already in the car when he climbs in. She offers him a smile and squeezes his hand as the door shuts and Daiko starts the engine. Yuuri’s fingers fumble for the window crank, his whole body shaking, but he manages to get the window down so that he may better see the faces of his family and friends.

“We love you, Yuuri!” his mother shouts, blowing him a kiss. “Good luck! Stay safe!”

“Don’t forget about your little family!” calls his father, wiping a tear from below his eye. 

“I won’t!” Yuuri replies, his voice cracking. He says it again for good measure, almost screaming it. “I won’t forget!”

The car turns a corner and they are all lost from sight.

Yuuri buries his head in his hands and cries.

* * *

 

“It’s time for you to learn earthbending,” Katara declares after he’s spent a year under her tutelage. Yuuri doesn’t argue with her, even though the dark voices in his head tell him that his waterbending is not yet good enough (will never be good enough). 

The Lotus debates over who should be his teacher. Lin and Su Beifong are both far too busy, and their mother dropped off the map ages ago. After a while, they decide on Celestino.

Celestino is a kind man, middle-aged with long brown hair and a mind as grounded as the earth he bends. He is patient and gentle with Yuuri. With him as a teacher, Yuuri soon finds comfort in the solidity of earthbending. He grows to enjoy the shift of earth beneath his feet almost as much as he loves the scrape of his skates over ice. The thing that proves most significant about Celestino, however, is that he already has a student.

The student’s name is Phichit Chulanont, and he is the most energetic person Yuuri has ever met. Phichit is three years younger than Yuuri. He has deep brown eyes that are full of light. He had boundless enthusiasm and positivity. And, very quickly, he becomes Yuuri’s best friend.

The prize of Phichit’s belongings is a camera. When he first pulls it out, Yuuri is surprised, because not a lot of people have those things. They’re expensive, and bulky, and most people find them unnecessary. Not Phichit, though. The camera is practically attached to his body, and at every opportunity he whips it out to snap a photograph. Yuuri loses track of the amount of times Phichit’s arm wrapped around his shoulders and dragged him into the shot.

“Smile!” demands Phichit, holding them together so close that their cheeks are touching. One of his hamster-mice crawls from his hair to Yuuri’s. The camera clicks and there’s a flash of bright light. 

On his deathbed Yuuri will still wonder how Phichit manages to align the lense perfectly without looking. A ‘selfie’, he calls it, and they always turn out perfect.

(Yuuri suspects there might be some magic involved, but he’s too afraid to ask.)

* * *

 

“YUURI!”

Yuuri awakens with such a start that he falls off his bed and lands with a thump on the floor, his blankets tangled around him so that he can’t really move. Blearily he flails his one free hand about on the nightstand until he finds his glasses and slides them on his face.

“Phichit? Wha—?”

Phichit is sitting on the floor by Yuuri’s dresser, several of the drawers open and the clothes within spilling out. In his hand is one of Yuuri’s skates, and he’s enthusiastically waving it about close enough to his face to make Yuuri nervous.

“You ice skate?!?!?!”

“Uh...yeah. What are you doing in my dresser?”

Phichit glances at the mess he made and has the decency to look sheepish. “Oh, sorry. I was looking for Ubon.”

“For...what?”

His friend holds up the hand that isn’t currently occupied with Yuuri’s skate. In it is a reddish ball of fur. “Ubon.”

Yuuri sighs. “Of course.” With some difficulty, he manages to extract himself from the mess that used to be his bedspread. “I thought you knew that I skated.”

“No????” Phichit’s eyes suddenly light up, and Yuuri, with a sense of resignation, knows what’s coming next.

“Are you any good?”

“I mean…”

Phichit is across the room in seconds, kneeling in front of Yuuri and clutching his shoulders. “Will you teach me?”

Yuuri blushes and looks away. “I don’t know, Phichit, I—”

“ _ Pleeeeeaaaaase.” _

Yuuri sighs. He knows Phichit well enough to know that his friend won’t take no for an answer. “Ok.”

“ _ Yes!”  _ Phichit skips across the room and places Ubon in her cage. Then he grabs a handful of Yuuri’s clothing and throws it at him. “Get dressed! Let’s go!”

“Wha— _ now _ ?”

“Yes, now!” The earthbender shoves a hat over his ears even though it’s only autumn, caught up in his romanticised image of ice skating. Yuuri heaves another sigh. 

Phicht may be an earthbender, but being around him is like being caught up in a whirlwind.

(Yuuri secretly loves it.)

* * *

 

Celestino bows to him, and Yuuri bows back. Phichit snaps a picture from behind them.

“Congratulations, Yuuri,” says Celestino, a smile on his voice. “You’ve mastered earthbending.”

Yuuri returns the smile, his cheeks flushed from the final duel of his training. He’s twenty years old, taller and more muscular. The pudge of his youth has fallen away, though hints of it linger in his cheeks and along his jawline. He looks stronger. He  _ feels  _ stronger.

He has mastered two elements, and it is only now that Yuuri truly accepts in his heart that he is the Avatar.

* * *

 

Water. Earth. Fire. Air.

Fire.

_ Fire _ .

Yuuri is a waterbender.

Yes, he’s the Avatar. Yes, technically that means he is also an earthbender, and an airbender, and a firebender. But at his core, Yuuri is water, the same way Avatar Aang was air. 

Fire is rage and glory. Passion and life. Fire is bold, it is confident, it is unapologetic.

Yuuri is many things, but he is not fire. 

The White Lotus tries many teachers. None of them fit.

In the end, they give him to the former Fire Lord himself.

* * *

 

The Fire Palace is large and grand. It is trimmed with gold in the shape of dragons, the inside carpeted with fine red velvet over dark burnished wood, the columns carved so that they appear to be in the process of being consumed with flame.

Even though the title of Fire Lord officially belongs to Izumi, Yuuri still imagines that he would meet Zuko in the throne room, shrouded in shadows on a vast throne. This proves an inaccurate assumption.

They meet in a small reception room. A square table sits in the center, surrounded by cushions. There’s a small throne on a raised dais at the opposite end of the room, but it’s unoccupied. Instead, the room’s only inhabitant, former Fire Lord Zuko himself, is sitting at the table, his long gray hair swept over his shoulders as he calmly sips his tea.

Yuuri thinks he might faint.

“Ah,” says Zuko, looking up as Yuuri enters, alone. “You must be the Avatar.”

Yuuri swallows and bows deeply, his heart in his throat. He doesn’t know the etiquette in this situation. Katara had assured him that Zuko was a kind man, and Phichit had reminded him that they had been close friends in his past life, but Yuuri is not Avatar Aang and this is the former head of the Fire Nation, after all.

Everyone knows the story. The exiled prince who saved his nation and helped to lead the world into a new era of peace, the Fire Lord so kind and just that he was loved by all, the man who was unmotivated by greed and so, at the ripe age of sixty-five, stepped down from the throne and passed the crown on to his daughter, Izumi.

Everyone knows the story. Not everyone finds themselves alone in a room with the legend who is supposed to teach you to firebend.

Yuuri’s been bowing for a while now. He’s not really sure what to do, and it’s just easier to keep his head bowed and his eyes fixed on the floor.

“Please,” beseeches Zuko. “There’s no need for that. Come join me.”

Yuuri straightens in time to see Zuko gesture to the seat across from him. He does as he’s bid. 

“Tea?” questions Zuko. Yuuri nods meekly.

“I’m Zuko,” says he, as if Yuuri doesn’t know exactly who he us. Yuuri can’t look him in the eye, and instead focuses his gaze on the wizened hands that steadily pour the tea with practised ease. It’s jasmine, from the smell of it. Yuuri wonders distantly if anyone from the White Lotus told Zuko that jasmine is his favorite, or if the two of them just happen to have the same taste in tea.

(A voice in the back of his mind wonders if Aang liked jasmine. He ignores it, because he’s not Aang. He’s Yuuri.)

Yuuri accepts the cup that’s pushed towards him. Automatically his hands wrap around it, but he doesn’t drink. It doesn’t feel proper.

“Yuuri,” says Zuko after a pause. “I don’t want you to be afraid of me.”

Yuuri stiffens and finally lifts the cup to his mouth.

“In fact, I was hoping perhaps we could be friends.”

“I’m not Aang,” says Yuuri before he can stop himself. Horrified, he bows his head and stares at his knees.

Zuko lets out a surprised sort of chuckle. “No, you’re not,” he agrees. “That’s why I want to get to know you. I already knew Aang. I want to know Yuuri Katsuki.”

Yuuri finally sums up the courage to meet the old man’s gaze. The eyes are kind, edged with laughter lines and spun of molten gold.

“What do you like to do for fun, Yuuri?”

Yuuri blinks. His hands open and close around the tea. “I like to skate,” he says eventually.

Zuko smiles.

* * *

 

They’re out in the courtyard. Yuuri’s supposed to be demonstrating what firebending he can do.

It’s not going well.

Zuko takes one look at Yuuri and the measly whiff of smoke that’s all he can manage and hums quietly.

“I think,” he says, his golden eyes seeming to stare into Yuuri’s soul. “That perhaps it is time we payed a visit to the Sun Warriors.”

* * *

 

“Welcome back, Avatar,” says the chief. “My father told me stories of your last visit.” Yuuri’s uncertain how to react to that so instead he bows politely.

“I’m honored to be here,” he says, and he means it. Very few people have set eyes on the forgotten civilization of the Sun Warriors.

“Well, you’re certainly more polite than the last one,” snarks the lanky old man who stands behind the chief. 

Yuuri flushes and looks away.

“I suppose you’re here to learn from the masters?” queries the chief. Yuuri nods, and the man gestures towards the fire that roars behind him. One of the Sun Warriors removes a small flame and hands it to Yuuri, and tentatively he accepts. 

“Climb the mountain to meet the masters,” instructs the chief. Yuuri gulps, already struggling to fuel the tiny flame.

This is going to be difficult. 

But he can do it. He has to.

* * *

 

Silhouetted by the setting sun, Yuuri reaches the top of the stairs. Slowly, deliberately, and very conscious of the eyes below that watch him intently, he lifts his hands up to the sky, the flame flickering and glowing like a shining heart.

Then the dragons come.

Yuuri never learned the dance, but it doesn’t seem to matter. When the dragons come, his body moves on its own, shifting and spinning with elegance he’s earned from years of skating. His movement flow like water, his hair lit like flames by the dying rays of the setting sun.

When he finishes, the dragons engulf him in a column of fire, and Yuuri is frozen at the epicenter of a new understanding.

As he descends to the pavilion below, Yuuri can feel the fire beating beside his heart. When he returns to the palace and Zuko asks him what he learned, Yuuri inhales that fire and, with a hand outstretched, produces his first ever flame.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phichit talks like this??? with all the weird punctuation???? like he's online????? Help I tried to stop him and it didn't work.
> 
> Ok so Zuko was not supposed to be Yuuri's fire bending teacher. Katara was supposed to be the only character from the original series to make an appearance. But I couldn't think of any YOI characters who would work as a teacher for Yuuri, aside from Celestino and Viktor, the former of which I already used and the latter...well, you'll see.
> 
> Please imagine that Zuko and Yuuri go ice skating together. Enjoy that image.
> 
> Thank you for reading! I hope you liked it. If you did, drop me a kudos, and if you did or you didn't leave me a comment so I can see what you thought!
> 
> (No promises on when the next chapter will come out but I'll try to get it out as soon as I can.)


	2. Air

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Buckle up, suckers. It's Viktuuri time!
> 
> Ok so uh. Wow. This got...really long. Um. I guess that's a good thing? 
> 
> This chapter contains references to both LoK and YOI canon, so keep an eye open.
> 
> Warnings: anxiety and feelings of worthlessness. This is because Yuuri.

“It is time for you to learn air bending,” says Katara on the day of Yuuri’s twenty-third birthday.

Yuuri almost chokes on his noodles and ends up having to spit them back into the bowl, broth splashing over the rim and puddling on the table.

Unfazed, Katara patiently bends the broth back into the bowl. She smiles at him in that way she has, with her lips curved up and her blue eyes sparkling. The look that says she knows something he doesn't. That says she knows  _ everything. _

At this point, Yuuri’s pretty sure the old waterbender  _ does, _ in fact, know everything.

“But I haven't mastered firebending yet.”

Three years have passed since Yuuri faced the dragons and left with a knowledge and a flame. Three years of firebending under the guidance of Zuko and the White Lotus. Three years and he's a decent enough firebender. He can produce the flame, and he flows through the forms the way he flows on the ice; with a grace and beauty that's unparalleled. It's lacking, though. He knows it's lacking. They all know it.

The problem is that it's missing a certain heat. A certain passion and confidence that no true firebender can miss. So he's not ready. But here's Katara, telling him it's time to move on.

“I'm not ready,” Yuuri reiterates, and Katara hums softly, her expression not changing. Eventually Yuuri concedes, looking down at the table and curling his hands into fists.

“I've contacted my son,” says the old woman. “He agreed to teach you.”

Katara’s son. Tenzin. Her youngest. The airbender. One of the last remnants of Air Nomad culture. Even after Harmonic Convergence forty years ago, when people across the world woke up bending air, the culture of the now-gone people is fading. It was carried through the centuries by Avatar Aang and passed to his son, who passed it on to children of his own and to the few airbenders who chose to take on the humble life of a monk, but it is still a feeble thing. That is what happens, Yuuri knows, when you exterminate a nation.

“Alright, Master Katara,” says Yuuri. “Will he be coming here or…”

“As much as he'd like to, Tenzin is a busy man,” she replies. “So you will be taking a boat to Republic City some time in the next week.”

Yuuri nods. 

“But you can start packing later. For now, finish your noodles. It's your birthday isn't it? How old are you?”

“Twenty-three.”

“A good age. Come, we'll celebrate.”

Two hours later, Yuuri finds himself on a frozen lake, Katara skating sedately by his side. She doesn't move with his skill, but beneath the weight of her old age Yuuri sees a certain grace. She must have been a sight to behold in her youth. Something inside his chest, near his heart, pulses warmth, and Yuuri can feel Aang’s love for the woman spilling out through the trailing tips of his fingers.

“Katara,” says Yuuri. “Would you like to skate with me?” He offers his hands, inviting her to an icy dance.

She smiles.

“I would love to.”

* * *

 

It’s an overnight trip from the White Lotus compound to Republic City. On the boat, Yuuri is given a cabin to himself. Despite not being much larger than a closet, it is clean and cozy, with a small, comfortable bed and a single circular window overlooking the shifting, splashing sea.

Yuuri falls asleep fairly quickly, even with the familiar bubbles of anxiety in his stomach. The rocking of the boat is comforting, like the ocean is a mother lulling her child to sleep.

That night, Yuuri dreams of blue water and the glimmering scales of koi fish, like the carvings that changed his life at age sixteen. Except these fish are very much alive, and they feel familiar in the way that means his memory of them belongs to Aang.

Aang hasn’t ever spoken to Yuuri, but Yuuri knows he’s there. In memories of things he’s never seen, in emotions he knows aren’t his. Aang appears in the bittersweet smiles that form on Katara’s lips when she thinks he’s not looking, and in the sad glint of Zuko’s eyes when he references something that Aang would understand but Yuuri does not.

Yuuri is not Aang. And that night he dreams of koi and not much else.

* * *

 

The boat docks as the sun is just peaking over the high rooftops of Republic City. A knock on his door awakens Yuuri, and he dresses quickly.

“Wait here,” says the Captain. “A boat will be arriving from Air Temple Island to pick you up.”

Yuuri nods and sits on a crate, the water lapping at the dock. He can see it through the cracks in the wood, can see the barnacles crusted on the supporting poles that reach down through the water to the sandy floor. The chatter of seagulls fills his ears, and Yuuri is reminded of Hasetsu.

It’s been a long time since he’s visited. He’d intended to, but he’d been so caught up in trying to master firebending that he hadn’t had time. Now, Yuuri inhales the sea air and thinks of home.

“Hey, loser!”

Yuuri startles, looking upwards into fierce eyes the blue of deadly flames. “W-what?”

“Move,” growls the blue-eyed boy, pointing at the crate Yuuri’s sitting on.

“Oh, sorry,” Yuuri hurries to apologize, quickly standing and taking a step to the side where hopefully he’ll be out of the way. The boy’s glare doesn’t leave him even as he bends to pick up the crate.

Yuuri can’t help but gape at the strength in the boy’s arms despite the slimness of his build. He doesn’t look like the other deckhands, strong and coarse and sea-brined. This boy is delicate, built like a dancer or a wind-blown flower.

“Eh? What are you looking at?” snaps the boy and Yuuri realizes he’s been staring.

“Oh! I’m sorry. Do you need help with that?” He moves to support the other end of the crate. “I’m Yuuri, by the way.”

The boy drops the crate. Yuuri skitters backwards, just barely managing to save his toes. 

“What?” demands the boy, actual steam coming from his ears. A firebender, Yuuri realizes, and distantly wonders if he’s in trouble.

“Uh...I said my name is Yuuri?”

“No, no,” insists the boy. “That’s  _ my _ name.  _ I’m  _ Yuri.”

“Oh.” Yuuri blinks uncertainly. “Um. That’s...nice. Hello, Yuri.”

The newly-dubbed Yuri shakes his head insistently. “No, we can’t  _ both _ be Yuri.”

“I, uh...I’m pretty sure we can.”

Fuming, the boy bends to pick up the crate again and lifts it in such a rush that he almost takes out Yuuri’s chin. “Whatever. Idiot.” He whirls around and stomps to the other side of the dock, dropping the crate on a pile of similar objects with a crash. The man at the end of the dock who’s dressed in official-looking clothing and holds a clipboard shoots him a dirty look.

“Watch yourself, Plisetsky.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” growls Yuri. “Whatever.”

Uncomfortable, Yuuri looks out over the water and scratches at the back of his neck. A wind gusts by, stirring his hair and causing the waves to splash just high enough that droplets of icy foam sprinkle the bare skin on his arms.

“Yuuri Katsuki!” someone calls. He turns to see a small motor boat approaching the dock. On board sits a man in the garb of a low-ranking White Lotus soldier. Yuuri raises an arm in greeting, trying to ignore the other Yuri’s fiery glare on his back.

The boat pulls up in a spray of water and the soldier stands, bowing once in greeting. “Do you need help with your things?”

Yuuri shakes his head and picks up his bag. “No, this is it.”

The guard raises an eyebrow but says nothing, instead offering a hand to help Yuuri onto the boat. He accepts, and steps off of the dock into the body of the boat, stance easily adjusting to the bobbing caused by the waves.

“Let’s go then,” says the soldier, and the boat’s engine restarts. As they fly towards the very recognizable Air Temple Island, Yuuri turns to find the other Yuri still watching from the dock.

It’s the strangest thing, but Yuuri feels that this meeting was important somehow. Though it seems unfeasible, he’s sure he’ll see the young man again.

He shakes his head, putting the strange feeling away for later. Now he has other things to be thinking about, like the figures in orange he can see waiting on the island.

Yuuri inhales deeply, sea air filling his lungs.

He’s the Avatar. And the final stage of his training is about to begin.

* * *

 

Tenzin is great and all, and Yuuri appreciates the busy man taking time out of his life to teach him, but they're having...difficulties.

It's nothing in particular that either is doing. It's just that, as teacher and student, Tenzin and Yuuri fundamentally do not mesh.

He's been living on Air Temple Island for a month and he hasn't managed to bend so much as a light breeze since he's been here.

Tenzin frowns and brings a hand to his forehead. “That's...that's enough for today. Go get cleaned up.”

Yuuri nods and does as he's told. He feels awful. Since nothing is obviously wrong with Tenzin’s teaching, Yuuri can't help but feel that this is his fault. Somehow, he's doing something wrong. He's the Avatar. So he should be able to airbend. But he can't. All his insecurities rise to the surface every time he tries, and he's unable to find that sense of peace and freedom that every Airbender needs.

He feels, somehow, that it's his fault for having this anxiety. That it's a burden he's put on himself and all he needs to do is shed it...but he can't.

He can't.

He's useless.

Yuuri pulls the traditional air nomad garb over his head and drops it onto his bed, too worn-out to bother folding it. Slowly, listlessly, he dresses as if in a trance, and it isn't until he's standing in front of the mirror that he registers he's put on his ice skating clothes.

His right hand curls into a fist. He swallows back the lump in his throat and blinks away his tears. Then he straightens, inhales deeply, and grabs his skates.

He doesn't actually know if he's allowed to leave the island so he sticks to the shadows as he passes the White Lotus guards in silence and dives into the ocean, bending the one element that feels like home.

He heads for the lights of the city.

* * *

 

It takes him a while to find a rink, but eventually he manages it. It's late, so it appears mostly empty. The sleepy-looking teenager at the front desk looks at him incredulously before glancing at the clock and heaving a sigh.

“Alright, go ahead, but we're closing up in an hour.”

Yuuri nods and moves inside, his skates hung over his shoulder. The building is cold, the presence of ice filling the atmosphere, and Yuuri can finally breathe for the first time in what feels like eons. The skates are a comfortable weight on his feet, the motions of lacing them up like an age-old ritual, like tea-making for his grandmother or like the shedding of petals from the cherry trees each year.

Yuuri steps out onto the ice and immediately feels free.

* * *

 

“Hi, there!” calls a voice and Yuuri almost falls over in surprise. He'd thought he was the only one here aside from the kid at the desk. Apparently he was wrong.

Turning first his head and then his body, Yuuri finds himself face to face with a friendly-looking man, his mouth pulled into a picture-perfect smile and his silver hair falling artfully into his eyes. Yuuri notes the grace with which the man moves, how his presence on the ice is like a chill breeze, and realizes that this man must be a fellow skater.

“Ah...hello,” says Yuuri, unsure what to do or say in this situation. The man is very, very close and he is very, very pretty. Yuuri feels his cheeks start to flush and he quickly ducks his head.

“I haven't seen you here before,” says the man, still beaming. “But you're skating is beautiful. What's your name?”

Yuuri blinks, suddenly embarrassed. ( _ The stranger had been watching him skate? For how long?) “ _ Uh. Yuuri. I'm Yuuri.”

The man’s head bobs up and down in excitement. “Really? How funny! My brother’s name is Yuri.” He reaches out and grabs Yuuri’s hand, shaking it enthusiastically. “I'm Viktor!”

In the back of his mind, Yuuri wonders just how many people there are in this city who share his name, but the rest of him is distracted by Viktor suddenly grabbing his other hand and pulling him across the ice. “Skate with me!” pleads Viktor joyfully.

It's not a question, and even if it was, Yuuri wouldn't have been able to say no. Viktor’s smile is irresistible. It is also, Yuuri finds as his lips peel upwards at the corners, quite infectious.

Skating with Viktor is, quite literally, a whirlwind. It doesn't take Yuuri long to determine that the man is an airbender; the wind generated by their spinning is much greater than it would normally be, and when Viktor breaks off to soar into a perfectly-executed jump, he is much higher in the air for much longer than should be humanly possible.

Skating with Viktor, all of Yuuri's troubles slip away. It's as if this strange, beautiful man he's just met had danced into his life with the sole purpose of lifting the weight from Yuuri's shoulders. 

There's not a lot that Yuuri's certain of. But he's certain that wherever his life as the Avatar takes him, he wants Viktor to be in it.

They part as the rink closes, the moon high above them in the purple sky. Yuuri mumbles a shy farewell, but Viktor lunges forward to grab his hand.

“Will you come again?” he asks, his hand warm around Yuuri's. “Tomorrow, can we skate again?”

Mutely, Yuuri nods. Viktor’s eyes are the purest shade of icy blue, gleaming with sincerity and excitement.

“Yes,” says Yuuri softly. “Yes, I would like that.”

Viktor smiles that beautiful smile Yuuri's become accustomed to and slips away into the night.

Yuuri is left standing alone on the sidewalk, the city bustling around him. He cups his hand to his chest, trying in vain to retain the feeling of Viktor's warmth, a warmth that is quickly seeping into his heart.

He thinks of Viktor flying above the ice. He thinks of the ineffectiveness of Tenzin’s training.

Yuuri exhales shakily. His breath clouds the night.

An idea forms in his mind as Yuuri sneaks back to the Temple. As he crawls into bed, he's pretty much decided.

Yuuri is going to ask Viktor to be his airbending teacher.

* * *

 

“So, Yuuri,” Viktor begins. They're sitting on a bench outside of the rink, resting.

“Mm?” Yuuri tilts back his water bottle and drinks from it, the cool liquid refreshing as it slips down his throat.

“Are you a bender?”

Yuuri chokes on the water and drops the bottle. It spills onto the floor, but he's coughing too hard to pick it up. Viktor's hand gently pats his back.

“Are you okay, Yuuri?” he asks, concerned.

Yuuri nods as the coughing fit subsides. He clears his throat, taking the now mostly empty water bottle from Viktor's hand. 

“So? Are you?”

_ Well, now’s a good a time as ever. _

Blushing softly, Yuuri bends the spilt water back into the bottle. Viktor watches in fascination, a smile on his face.

“So you are, then! A waterbender! How lovely. It explains why you're so beautiful on the ice.”

Yuuri blushes even harder at that. “Actually, Viktor, I…” he trails off, unsure as to how to continue.

“Yes?”

“You're an airbender, right? I mean, I don't want to assume but the way you move…and, and your jumps…”

“Yes, I am an airbender,” beams Viktor. “Water and air! Between the two of us, we're the perfect combination for an ice skater.”

Yuuri chuckles nervously. “Uh, yeah. Um. About that. Would you..uh.” He clears his throat, summons his courage. “Will you teach me?”

Viktor huffs out a startled sort of laugh. “Yuuri, I think you already know how to skate—”

“Not skating. Airbending.”

“What?”

“I want you to teach me airbending.”

There’s a pause, wherein Yuuri imagines he can hear the frost gathering on the window panes. Viktor is watching him with his brow furrowed.

“But you’re a waterbender.”

“Yes.”

Something clears in Viktor’s face. “Then...you...you mean you’re…?”

“Yes.”

The tension breaks with the smile that suddenly draws Viktor’s lips into the shape of a heart. He leaps to his feet and, grabbing Yuuri’s hands, drags him up with him. Yuuri stiffens in surprise as he suddenly finds himself being hugged.

“Yes, of course! Yuuri, I would love to teach you!”

Yuuri smiles and hugs him back.

He doesn’t know a lot, but he knows with Viktor in his life, everything is going to be alright.

* * *

 

They've had one lesson and Yuuri's already airbended more than he ever has before. It's a relief when he feels a chunk of his soul loosen and allow the flow of air around his fingers, a relief to be whole. He hadn't noticed it before, but now that he has bended all four elements, he realizes that he'd been incomplete.

With the four elements, he's the Avatar. With the four elements, and with Viktor, he is whole.

Now he just has to tell Tenzin.

* * *

 

It's mid-morning. Yuuri woke up late, exhausted from another night in the rink with Viktor. He's sitting at the table, eating breakfast. Tenzin sits opposite, watching.

“Where are you going at night?” Tenzin finally asks, the atmosphere growing impossibly more tense. Yuuri stiffens, swallowing with some difficulty.

There's no point in lying. Tenzin has to find out eventually, after all.

“The city,” he says.

Tenzin frown deepens. He brings his hand to rest on the table, fingers pressed together into a triangle. 

“Why.”

Yuuri glances down, trying to calm his anxiety. He's an adult, and more than that, he's the Avatar. He can choose what he does with his life, and he can choose who he wants as his teacher.

“I wanted to go skating. I found a rink and I've…I've been going there at night.”

“For how long?” Tenzin's voice is stern. Yuuri's afraid to meet his eyes, knows they must be hardened steel. He doesn't answer.

“Yuuri. For how long?”

Yuuri sucks in air through his mouth, thinking of Viktor's smile and Viktor's hands on his. He pictures the look on the airbender’s when he agreed to be his teacher.

“Tenzin.” Blue eyes so dark they're almost black meet gray eyes the color of storm clouds. “I want to thank you for everything you've done for me.”

Tenzin's brow furrows. “What are you talking about?”

“I truly appreciate it, but as the Avatar it is very important that I do everything in my power to master all four elements.”

“Yuuri…”

He forges onwards, knowing if he stops he might not be able to continue. “I've found another airbender who I want as my teacher. Please don't take this as a reflection on yourself. I respect you greatly and you have been an excellent teacher, but I think it is best for everyone that I take this other man as my airbending master.”

Tenzin's face is impossible to read. The silence stretches, both men watching each other, neither looking away. Yuuri feels strangely calm, even though he knows he should be panicking. The thought of Viktor is a metal rod in his spine, drawing his back straight and his eyes forwards. Viktor is a suit of armor on Yuuri's heart, a cradle to protect him from his fears.

“Alright,” says Tenzin.

Something inside Yuuri collapses. His back curls, his gaze loses its intensity. Suddenly, he's horrified. He can't believe he actually said those things. What must Tenzin think of him?

“W-what?”

“Alright.” The older airbender bows his head in a gesture of respect. “Yuuri, as the Avatar, it is your choice who you take as a teacher. And, quite frankly, I felt that there was nothing I could do to help you. We lack a certain communication that is essential.”

“Y-you're not mad?”

“Of course not.” Tenzin smiles, the gentleness of it striking against the stern lines of his face. “So. Who is this new teacher of yours?”

Relief floods Yuuri, and he feels like he can breath again. “Viktor. Viktor Nikiforov.”

“I would very much like to meet this Viktor. Do you mind if I come with you next time you go to the rink?”

“N-not at all.”

“Well then.” Tenzin stands in a rush of air, his robes swirling upwards and then settling around him. “It's decided. I will go with you to the rink tonight. And you will take Viktor Nikiforov as your new airbending teacher.”

* * *

 

On Yuuri's first day of training, he walks into Viktor's apartment and is immediately attacked by a miniature bear-dog.

“Aah!” Yuuri goes down with a yell, his back hitting the floor and his face immediately covered in slobber as the animal’s tongue slurps his face.

“No, Makkachin! Down!”

The bear-dog prances off towards Viktor, tail wagging high like a flag. It looks very pleased with itself, giving Yuuri a sloppy grin as it flops down by Viktor's side.

“Sorry about that. He just really loves visitors.”

Yuuri laughs, using one sleeve to mop the spit off his face. “It's alright. He reminds me of a bear-dog I had when I was younger.”

Viktor wraps him in a hug and then drags him back outside. “Come on, Yuuri! Let's go down to the beach!”

“W-why?”

“Well, we can't very well airbend in here! We need the wind!”

They hurl down the stairs to the street, and Yuuri is quite content to be dragged along.

It's cold out, the November wind nipping at this face, but Viktor doesn't seem to notice. Yuuri pulls his scarf tighter around his face, using what he knows of firebending to try to heat himself up. 

The beach is almost deserted. Most people aren't crazy enough to be out in this cold. They stop with their shoes in the sand and Viktor clasps both of his hands, beaming with his usual smile. His silver hair blows in the wind, his eyes brighter than the sun glinting off of the sea.

“Are you ready to begin your training, Yuuri?”

Yuuri nods and they begin. 

Viktor proves to be unlike any of Yuuri's prior teachers. He gives instructions in a lilting, musical voice, and dances about like he's on the ice, a breath of air between his toes and the sand. His hands rest lightly on Yuuri's limbs as he molds him into the correct positions, warm fingers like butterfly kisses on his shoulders and hips.

It's a completely foreign experience and Yuuri loves it. 

He feels warm, and he can hear his heart pumping in his ears. As he bends the air in a slow circle about his body, he realizes that he's felt like this before.

This is the feeling he brushed when he skated with Katara, the feeling so distant that he knows it belonged to Aang.

This is that feeling, except it's his, not Aang’s. This is his mother’s kisses or his father’s hugs but warmer, sharper, like a bolt of lightning rather than a burning coal. This is exciting and terrifying and Yuuri never wants it to end.

When they finish, he's no longer cold, his limbs aching and his chest heaving. Viktor rests an arm across his shoulder and smiles, close enough that his hair brushes Yuuri's cheek.

“That's enough for today. Let's go have some tea.”

* * *

 

The apartment is not empty when they get back.

Yuuri is confused when he sees that the lights are all on, but Viktor doesn't seem perturbed so he follows him without saying anything. The door swings open without needing to be unlocked, and Makkachin bounds up to greet them.

“Close the door, you're letting the cold in!” calls a voice from the couch. Yuuri slides his shoes off and pads on sock-muffled feet into the warmth of the apartment.

Whoever’s on the couch sits up, and Yuuri is greeted with a strangely familiar head of blond hair. He doesn't have to wonder long, however, because the person turns their head and Yuuri immediately recognizes the fierce blue eyes as belonging to the boy from the docks.

The other Yuri’s mouth drops open. He vaults over the couch and crosses to Yuuri, jabbing a finger into his chest.

“What are  _ you  _ doing here?”

Viktor glides in between them, either oblivious to the literal sparks Yuri’s throwing off or ignoring them completely. “Yuuri, this is my brother! He's also named Yuri! Yura, remember how I told you I'm training the Avatar?”

“I thought you were joking!” Yuri protests, sounding disproportionately upset. “Wait. You're saying  _ he’s  _ the Avatar?”

“Yes!” Viktor throws both arms around Yuuri's neck, resting his chin on Yuuri's shoulder and continuing to beam happily. “Isn't he wonderful?”

Yuri takes a step backwards, regarding them with both eyebrows raised. Some realization passes over his face and he groans.

“Oh no.”

Yuuri blushes. “Um. Maybe I should go…”

“No no no no, Yuuri! Stay, please! Yuri's just grouchy.” Viktor pauses, frowning. “Hm. We'll have to do something about the names.” He thinks for a moment, then points to each of them in turn. “You can be Yuuri, and you can be Yurio. Okay?”

The newly-dubbed Yurio’s face turns bright red. Flames spark at his fingertips, and Yuuri tries to retreat a step but is pinned in place by Viktor's suffocating embrace. “ _ You are not calling me Yurio.” _

Viktor ignores him, instead dancing into the kitchen with Yuuri in tow. “Come on, Yuuri, I promised you tea, didn't I? Yurio, can you feed Makkachin?”

“ _ That's not my name!” _

* * *

 

Apparently, Viktor and Yuri aren't blood relatives. Viktor started teaching him how to apply airbender techniques to firebending at a very young age, and since Yuri didn't have anyone other than his aging and financially-unstable grandfather, Viktor ended up taking him in and declaring them siblings to anyone who asked.

Regardless of their actual relations, however, Yurio certainly plays the part of a younger sibling very well.

He rolls his eyes whenever they enter the room, he groans when Viktor ruffles his hair and he absolutely refuses to respond to his new nickname. He's aggressive and confrontational, and at first he made Yuuri nervous with all his shouting and flames.

There's a soft side to him, however.

Yuuri sees it on quiet nights when they sit by the radio and Viktor pulls the boy’s silky hair into elegant braids. He sees it when Yurio is delicately moving fire through the airbending forms and when the teenager is curled up on the couch with a book.

He sees it the moment Yuri steps onto the ice.

It's a strange thought, a firebender on the ice. But Yurio moves with a grace and skill unlike anything Yuuri's ever seen before. His every gesture radiates elegance and beauty, and Yuuri is instantly reminded of the dance of the dragons Ran and Shaw.

Yuri is the fire of anger, of passion, but he is also the flame of beauty and life. He is the beating heart Yuuri cupped in his hands when he climbed the stairs to meet the setting sun.

Yuri and Viktor are puzzle pieces in Yuuri’s life, he realizes. Things that he’d been missing, that now that they are found help to make him complete. Viktor slid into place easily, but for Yurio he will have to try harder to find his fit.

He’ll do it though. 

* * *

 

“Yurio?”

The teenager launches into a jump, long hair swinging as a curtain across his face. He lands perfectly, expression already contorted into a snarl.

“That’s not my—”

“Will you help me with my firebending?”

Yurio skids to a stop, turning to stare at him. “I thought you already knew how to firebend. You know, since you’re the  _ Avatar  _ and all.”

“I do, but…” Yuuri pauses, scuffing the guard of his skate against the ground. “It’s...lacking.”

“And you think  _ I  _ can help?” scoffs Yurio, turning away. “Forget it.”

“Yurio—”

“I said  _ forget it _ !”

Disheartened, Yuuri leaves the boy to his skating.

* * *

 

The next day, Yurio walks in on Yuuri lacing his skates and sits down on the bench beside him.

“Don’t bother putting those on.”

Confused, Yuuri straightens, turning his full body to look at him. “What—”

“I said put your skates away.”

Yuuri doesn’t really understand what’s happening, but he does it anyway. When he finishes, the firebender is standing impatiently by the door with his hands stuffed in the pockets of his dark red pants. He gestures with his chin for Yuuri to follow and exits the rink.

They walk in silence through the streets, Yurio leading and Yuuri following. Soon, the very distinctive pro-bending arena looms before them, and Yuuri is surprised when the teenager heads towards the doors.

“Yurio, I don’t think we should be—”

“Shut up.” Yurio veers slightly towards a side door, the one specially designated for pro-benders. Yuuri feels uncomfortable but follows anyway. He knows he could probably play the Avatar card if they get in trouble, but he really doesn’t want to.

To his surprise, Yurio pulls a key from his pocket and unlocks the door, stepping inside with barely a glance behind him. He continues through the dimly lit hallway with a confident stride, not a hint of uncertainty in his body.

Eventually, though, he offers an off-handed explanation. “I have a friend who probends.” A pause. “And there’s a coach who used to be Viktor’s airbending teacher.”

Yuuri wants to ask questions, but he figures with Yurio it’s probably best to keep his mouth shut. The boy isn’t currently yelling at him, and more than that he’s decided to offer information about himself. Yuuri doesn’t want to ruin this, whatever this is.

Eventually they reach a small training gym. A probending team leaves as they enter, the three fairly-young benders glancing at them curiously. A bushy reddish tail appears from underneath the earthbender’s collar and Yuuri blinks. 

“Come on, slow piggie,” growls Yurio, standing impatiently in the doorway. Yuuri tears his eyes away and moves into the gym.

“Show me your firebending.”

Startled, Yuuri meets Yurio’s electric gaze. “What?”

“What are you, deaf? Show me some fire.”

It slowly dawns on Yuuri why they’re here. Yurio is going to help him with his firebending after all.

Yuuri smiles and flows into his favorite form, a fluid, almost dance-like one with three flame-fueled jumps in it. Yurio watches with disinterest, seemingly unimpressed.

“You were right. You’re lacking.”

Yuuri sighs. “I know.”

“Your form is right, but it’s all empty. There’s no force there. You need to fuel your own internal fire before you start producing physical flames.”

Yurio talks about breath and intensity and focus. He references airbending techniques learned from Viktor and movements from the ice. He speaks animatedly, and though he maintains the aloofness of his expression, it slips just slightly so that Yuuri can see the emotion underneath.

Yurio may pretend like he doesn’t, but the boy truly cares a lot about a lot of things. And as his firebending steadily improves, Yuuri starts to realize something.

He cares for Yurio, too.

* * *

 

After two months of training with Viktor, Yuuri moves off of Air Temple Island and into Viktor and Yuri’s apartment.

On a cold, clear night, with thousands of stars twinkling above, backlit by the city that is thriving with life, Yuuri and Viktor share their first kiss.

* * *

 

Yuuri doesn’t sleep while he’s working on the carving.

He stays up night after night after night until his eyes are red and his mind is clouded. He works tirelessly, trying again and again to make the carving perfect. Perfect for Viktor. Perfect for their love.

When it’s finished, he goes to the rink.

* * *

 

Viktor is there, because he’s always there. He greets Yuuri with that heart-breakingly beautiful smile of his, just as he always does. When Yuuri steps onto the ice, they take hands, the same as always, but unlike the usual, Yuuri holds him in place.

“Viktor,” he starts, but the words get stuck in his throat. He doesn’t know what to say or how to say it. His love is too large for his words, and so instead he removes his hand from his pocket. 

“Yuuri?” asks Viktor, his eyes searching. He reaches a hand to cup Yuuri’s cheek, but Yuuri shakes his head and holds out his fist. In it is a leather cord, and dangling from the cord is his carving.

Viktor’s eyes widen and fill with tears. 

“Yuuri,” he says again, this time in a whisper. Silently, with trembling hands and a swelling heart, Yuuri reaches out to touch Viktor’s neck.

Understanding flashes between them. Viktor turns and bows his head so that Yuuri may clasp the leather together at the nape of his neck. They don’t speak. They don’t need to.

Yuuri moves to pull away, but Viktor catches his hand. Something cold slips onto Yuuri’s finger, and he looks down to see a glint of gold with an icy swirl of diamonds etched into its surface.

A ring.

Their eyes meet, and Viktor smiles.

Then they move together and their lips meet in a kiss.

They kiss and kiss and kiss like they never have before. They kiss deeply, passionately, and desperately. They cling to each other and kiss like each will be able to fade into the other, as if they will become one. Two halves of a whole; the wind and the waves, the skater and the ice.

Finally they pull away just far enough so that they can see into each other’s eyes. Viktor’s silver hair tickles Yuuri’s nose. They’re both breathless and smiling and flushed with pure joy. 

“I love you,” says Yuuri, means it more than he’s ever meant anything else. He puts all of his heart into the words. He gives all of his heart to Viktor.

Viktor kisses him again. His teeth brush Yuuri’s lips as he smiles.

“You are my heart, Yuuri,” Viktor promises once they break once again. 

“And you are mine.”

Two halves of a whole. Two hearts in one. Two koi fish, one dark and one light, circling each other in an endless dance.

Their hands clasp and they are one.

* * *

 

The Avatar is an all-powerful figure with a great responsibility to the world. They are significant from the moment of their birth to the day of their death. Each is different in their own way, but something often forgotten in the history books is the significance of each Avatar’s relationships.

Viktor and Yuri started as strangers but now they are family.

Yuuri sits on the couch in their apartment, Viktor’s head pressed to his and Yuri’s feet in his lap. It is warm. It is quiet. It is peaceful.

It could be said that an Avatar becomes whole when they have all four elements mastered. In part, that is true.

But one thing Yuuri can say for sure is that it is the people he has known, rather than the forms he has learned, that have completed him.

This is his family.

Yuuri closes his eyes and loses himself in bliss.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that's it. I hope you enjoyed! Leave me a comment with your thoughts. Even if it's just a word or two, I love to hear from you!


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